Baby Grands
by Serenitychan13
Summary: A series of 1000-word drabbles to combat my recent plague of wordiness. Graverobber/Shilo. Just a series of everyday-life events that bring them closer together. Rating to be on the safe side, possible slight squick.
1. Nightmares

_**Disclaimer:**_ **I don't do witty disclaimers like some... I'm just here to tell you fine people that I do not own Repo! or anything else particularly awesome. I just own this-here piece o' fan-literature and a crabby ol' cat.**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**I've been having problems with wordiness lately. So I'm keeping these under 1000 words if it KILLS ME. Forgive me if I underestimate y'all's intelligence, but I feel it bears explaining that a thousand is colloquially referred to as a "grand". The "baby" bit comes from the term "ficlet," which just brings to mind the image of baby fanfics.**

_Enough of this author-babble! On with the fic!_

Nightmares

It should have been a decent night for sleep – one of the rare nights that they had been able to get a roof over their heads. Sure it wasn't much more than a room, a bathroom, and a mattress on the floor, but it proved infinitely better than a bench, a Dumpster, or just the ground in an alley someplace. Graverobber had immediately flung himself down on the mattress and yanked the olive-green blanket up to his shoulders before burying his face in his pillow. Shilo, after a quick wash in the not-too-offensive bathroom, joined him. She settled in on her left side, facing away from him. Propriety took a back seat when they had only one decent sleeping surface available, but that didn't mean they _did_ anything of note.

Sleep had fallen on both of them fairly quickly. Graverobber conked out almost the second his head hit the pillow, while Shilo, as usual, took about five minutes of wriggling around to get it right. Her eyes slid closed and she didn't intend to deal with the waking world again for a few good hours. Curled up on her side, she breathed deeply, her nose ignoring the musty smell in favor of oxygen to the brain.

Deep sleep claimed her mind and images started to flash there… Horrible images… Blood splattered everywhere. A wrought-iron fence spiked up from the stage with the body of a beautiful soprano – her own godmother, unknown to her until just a few days prior – impaled upon it. Red stains spread over the artificial snow piled around the fence. Her mind's eye looked over the scene – first, it fell on the CEO of GeneCo, cold and dead, stage right. He hadn't been impaled, shot, stabbed, or in any other way mutilated, so he wasn't surrounded by blood.

That was when the Graverobber, his sometimes-predisposition to sleeping light manifesting itself tonight, started to feel movement on the mattress beside him. He growled, still mostly out of it, and turned on his right side, pulling away from said movement. However, the mattress seemed to have other ideas, jabbing a spring into a sore spot on his rib cage. Grunting irritably, he turned over on his back. With his brain in light-sleeping mode tonight, he could hear waking sounds better than he normally could at this time of night. A tiny voice niggled its way into one ear and he knew that real sleep would be long in coming tonight.

"Dad…" the small voice mumbled, its owner rolling over in her sleep. "Dad… no…"

Graverobber turned on his left side, his eyes cracking open. He squinted blearily at the tiny creature sound asleep next to him. Well… maybe not _sound_ – the poor little thing was shaking in her sleep and he couldn't see her face, but he would bet that her eyes were squinched shut. Cracking his neck – surprised _that_ didn't wake her – he shifted carefully to prop himself up on his left arm. This gave him a better view, and he didn't like what he saw one bit.

Sure enough, the kid had her eyes clenched shut and her body curled in a fetal position – on top of that, her pale face glistened with unchecked tears. She mumbled almost incoherently, but he could pick out a few words about her dad, whimpers and pleas not to be left alone. He had seen her watching him, the looks she would give him that told him how truly fragile she remained after her ordeal. She tried awfully hard to be independent, but when he was gone even five minutes longer than he said he would be he could always see the panic in her eyes when he returned. He normally couldn't stand clingy women, but this one made an honest effort not to need anyone.

A few more garbled phrases tumbled from her lips, followed by a strangled sob and a fresh wave of tears. Desire for sleep nattered at his mind, but for some reason, that annoying little tic called 'human decency' picked that moment to flare up. He couldn't just let her lie there, shaking and crying like that, but what could he do? It wasn't exactly the best idea to go waking her up in the middle of a nightmare. He'd found out the hard way a while back that doing that could result in a horrible panic attack – by that same note, he had discovered that Shilo threw a damn good right hook while panicking. Tilting his head, he watched her a while longer to see if it cleared up on its own.

It didn't. The teenager curled up tighter in her sleep, every muscle in her small body clenching in fear and desperation. Graverobber, for as much of an asshole as he sometimes _acted_ like, really wasn't that bad a guy – still human, after all. He couldn't stand seeing the kid like that, not after catching her triumphant "last stand" against the Largos on the hoverboards and seeing what spark she really had. Not many seventeen-year-old girls, much less one who had come from her kind of situation could sass the most powerful family in the world while pointing the head honcho's own gun at each of them. Not quite sure of what to do, he scooted closer to the girl.

Shilo turned on her back again, writhing in pain, whether real or just in her head – that wasn't important now anyway. He just wanted to see her stop. Slowly, deliberately making sure not to wake her, he reached out and draped an arm around her. When this did not cause her to wake up and do him bodily harm, he carefully turned her back on her side. After pausing for a moment for the same reason, he pulled her in close, pressing her back against his chest. He knew she was small, but her skinny frame felt almost painfully frail against his solid body. She didn't settle right away, but he felt her relax.

***

A thousand words even, excluding title, disclaimer, author's note, and this, as counted by Microsoft Word!


	2. Dysmenorrhea

_**Disclaimer:**_ **Well, I don't go the whole "ridiculous disclaimer" thing, y'know? You lovelies know as well as I do, sadly enough, that I do not own Repo! or any characters that aren't mine. I don't even have the subject of this ficlet - well, okay, that's a big "hallelujah!" on that.**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**Well, I succeeded on the first one - kept it precisely one thousand words. Now let's see if I can do that again! Yeah. Also, this chapter is dedicated to the lovely AmazonTurk and her wonderful fic "Part of Life".**

_I'm shutting up now! On with the fic!_

Dysmenorrhea

Shilo had been a bit more irritable than usual when he said he didn't want her following him out today, but Graverobber hadn't thought much of it. When she launched one of her boots at his head, he just laughed and watched it sail by. She never could aim with anything but her fist – so for the past day or so, he'd just been making sure to stay out of punching range. For some reason, she had been snarly and snappy, and if he didn't think he knew better, looked like she was in pain. But he had just made a face at her and scooted out the door.

When he had come back, halfway into the night, he received a slight shock to the system – Shilo seemed to be missing. He looked around the room, at the creaky bed they had spent last night on. A funny spot caught his eye and he approached. The spot was bright, stark red – blood. His mind raced, horrible thoughts screaming through his head. _What the hell had happened while he was out!? Where was she?_ Even though the Graverobber was a man of action, since her shoes were still in the corner, calming down and thinking presented the best option.

"Hey, kid!?" he called out.

He heard what might have been a reply of "_In here!_" from the bathroom. It sounded more like a pained groan, but those could have been words, he guessed. The unease in his gut only slightly allayed, he moseyed over to the bathroom and, without knocking, tried the knob. It was locked. Frowning, he twisted harder, raising his voice as he asked "_Kid, are you in there?_" through the closed door. A sound very like the first one, but more discernible as a 'yes', answered him.

"Are you okay?" he pressed, a note of urgency in his voice.

No answer. The Graverobber raised a fist, pounding on the door. When he pressed his ear to it, he heard small whimpering sounds – it sounded like she was crying. Frowning, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pocket knife – jimmying a door had been a snap to him for years. He twisted the knob, easily this time, and heard a gasp as he slowly pushed the door open. The scene that greeted him once he got a good look at the bathroom all at once stunned, relieved, and scared the living hell out of him.

Shilo sat curled up on the tile floor beside the commode, crying her little eyes out, both arms wrapped around her stomach. A bloody pair of panties soaked in the half-full sink. Blood dotted the tile floor in places and a close look at Shilo's person revealed blood smeared on her thighs. What had been a full roll of toilet paper this morning had diminished to about a half of one now. It took the Graverobber all of three seconds to guess what had happened – Shilo had gotten her first "female problem" and it scared her. Well, that explained the flying shoes.

_Oh shit… _He didn't know the first thing about dealing with a teenage girl having her first period. But oh well, his life had always been one big improv' routine, so he figured he'd just do what he did best and wing it. First thing he needed to do would be to let her get cleaned up.

"You're fine, kid," he told her, his tone as gentle and soothing as he could make it. She glanced at her lower regions and then pinned him with a look of utter fright. He smiled, albeit a bit awkwardly, and told her "No, you're not dying. It's just part of life."

He reached a hand down to help her up, but she couldn't make herself move from her place on the floor, so he picked her up and gently but firmly set her on her feet.

"Get yourself cleaned up and then come on out," he instructed, trying to phrase the next bit delicately, so as not to spook her, upset her, or get hit with anything. He gave her another lopsided smile as he reached for his towel from last night's quick shower – it was mostly dry – and handed it to her. "I might not know much about this particular… problem… but I think I can help you with part of it at least."

Shilo nodded and took the towel from him, wincing – the Graverobber ruffled her hair and gestured at the shower as he left.

---

Fifteen minutes later, a still-damp Shilo Wallace inched her way out of the bathroom, back in same oversized black sweater and thigh-highs, the socks bunched around her knees. She flinched as every step aggravated her cramps. Her watery eyes found the Graverobber, sitting with his back against the cheap metal 'headboard' and watching her. Silently, he patted the mattress next to him, and she joined him on the bed.

"You said you could help?" she inquired, turning those pained brown eyes on him and actually sparking a bit of endeared pity in his jaded old heart.

"Lay down," he answered, stroking her shoulder with the backs of his fingers.

Frowning, Shilo did as he said, laying rather stiffly on her back. Graverobber shook his head and told her to turn over, which she did with minimal fuss. He ran one hand down her back, relaxing her a little automatically. The second time, he used both hands, carefully pressing into the small of her back – Shilo didn't know why, but her cramps briefly subsided. Several moments passed in which he simply worked his fingers over her sore muscles. She almost fell asleep, but the abdominal cramps didn't seem to want to let her.

"Come here," the Graverobber's gentlest caressed her ear as he eased himself down next to her, sliding his arms around her waist.

He held her close, his warm hands acting like a hot water bottle against her stomach – Shilo sighed and relaxed fully.

***

We have, once again, fic content at a thousand words even, as counted by Microsoft Word!

**Author's Footnote: "Dysmenorrhea" is the technical term for menstrual cramps that go, shall we say, above and beyond the norm. These are the ones that leave a woman practically disabled once a month. I've heard it's a general fan concensus that Shilo, while on her father's "medicine" was not having periods. This may e TMI, but I've got a bit of knowledge on the subject of a first period after it being medically halted. It's hell on wheels - messy and bloody and it HURTS, by crikey! Since this is Shilo's first period EVER, I figured it might be a bit more traumatic.**


	3. Night Terrors

_**Disclaimer:**_ **How many times do I have to tell you people to look elsewhere for disclaimers a la Groucho Marx? First off, I do not own anything that I could possibly allude to. Mainly I have to tell you is that I don't own Repo! or anything related to it. Well... except for a whole bunch of filthy dreams involving the Graverobber and... I'm going to shut up now.**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**So far, so good, ne? 1000 words even twice in a row! Okay, the real purpose here is to note the difference between a "nightmare" and a "night terror". Nightmares are (duh!), really bad dreams that scare you half to death and usually you remember in the morning. At the very least you will probably remember that you had a bad dream. Point is, it's just part of the normal sleep cycle, so when the nightmare's over, you sleep right on through. A night terror, however, is so deep in your subconscious that it scares you stupid and you wake up, with no recollection of what actually scared you. I may be off on some technicalities here, but I'm a fanfic writer, not a psychiatrist - this shit's coming out of my AP Psychology notes from my senior year of high school, for Pete's sake!**

_But seriously folks, there's a difference, so... On with the fic!_

They hadn't managed to find a room or anything tonight, so instead of a dumpster, they had simply located the cleanest possible alley and curled up in a corner. Shilo had ended up curled up in Graverobber's lap, her head on his chest and his arms wrapped around her. His coat, draped over both of them as best they could get it, offered some protection from the cold night.

For once, she wasn't having one of her usual nightmares – however, her sleep was not as dreamless as she might have hoped. A chorus line formed of costumed, dancing cockroaches sang "_R-E-C-Y-C-L-E, RECYCLE! C-O-N-S-E-R-V-E, CONSERVE!_" She wrinkled her nose and unconsciously repositioned her hand on the Graverobber's chest. The singing vermin continued "_Don't you P-O-L-L-U-T-E, POLLUTE the river, sky, or sea, or else you're gonna get what you deserve!_" Vaguely aware that she was, in fact, dreaming, Shilo groaned in her sleep at the sappy song.

As the cockroach chorus line launched into a musical tirade about sources of fluorocarbons in the atmosphere – like Styrofoam containers and aerosol cans – the coat slid down off her shoulder. The insects proceeded on into a dance routine. Half listening to the music in her head, mostly still asleep, the teenager grumpily yanked the manky old thing back up. Graverobber tightened his arms at her movement, his head bowing forward to rest on her shoulder. He gave a light snore and cracked his neck in his sleep, jarring Shilo partially awake.

"_Hnnph?_" she grunted, almost cracking an eye open. Her brain informed her that nothing was worth waking up for right now so she let out an "_Nngh…_" sound and conked out again.

Settled once more, the teenager and the infamous Zydrate dealer slept on for another good hour. Shilo's dancing cockroaches marched on the garbage dump at the encouragement of a little fly with an Australian accent. He had managed to convince all his fellow bugs that they could fight City Hall, though what for, Shilo couldn't tell for the life of her. Her lips parted and she hummed a couple of quiet, off-key bars from the musical her brain had invented. Still deeply asleep, she nestled closer to the Graverobber, warm and comfortable as she could possibly be.

However, a few seconds after a beam from a non-ozone-shielded sun struck a large, pollution-grubbing toad, Shilo found herself in the rib-cracking grip of a reticulated python. Or at least, that was what it felt like. Her eyes shot open as she gasped for breath, shocked. Okay, she was not, in fact, being constricted to death by a very large snake. For some reason, the Graverobber had just tightened his arms' grip around her, almost crushing her rib cage in the process. Growling sleepily, Shilo wriggled in his hold, trying to loosen it up a bit.

As her mind pushed her unwillingly back into the waking world, she started to get the idea that all was not well. She blinked a couple of times, her eyes still bleary from sleep, and looked around, thinking maybe they were being accosted by street-folk. It wasn't unheard-of for the people of the alleys to fight each other for territory like animals. No, their alley remained just as deserted as it had been when they went to sleep. She tilted her head at a passing cockroach, wondering why in the hell she could almost hear it singing about recycling and conservation.

Then the python struck again. No, it was just the Graverobber tightening his arms around her a second time. Shilo whimpered in pain and writhed a bit. He loosened his grip, but his body remained rigid, twitching a bit every so often. At first, Shilo almost panicked, thinking he might be having a seizure or something. But then she heard and felt his ragged breath, his chest shuddering erratically as he held her to him. After some creative wriggling, Shilo saw his face and gasped.

"Graverobber?" she questioned, her voice soft and raspy from lingering sleep.

Fear of the most pure, primal sort had etched itself into every line of the pale man's face. He had his eyes screwed tightly shut and moisture had started to collect at the corners from the force of it. Even under his half-wiped-off makeup, she could see the grey around his temples and the rest of his face, paler than usual. His parted lips trembled with his shaky, rattling breath. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.

Shilo had read about night terrors or something like that – it had been a while back ago. Apparently, they were so deep in a person's subconscious mind that it disturbed the normal sleep cycle and the person awoke in panic. She swallowed hard; that being the case, there wasn't anything she could do but wait for him to wake up. He continued to twitch, emitting soft, pained grunts. It sounded like he had just been hit several times. Biting her lip and hoping she wouldn't cause him to hurt himself – or her, for that matter – Shilo reached up and laid a cool hand on his cheek.

After a few long moments, the twitching subsided. His arms still held her almost uncomfortably tight against his chest - he continued shivering. Every so often, his panting breath hitched. Shilo watched his face carefully, her eyes following the sweat trailing down his nose from his forehead. With his body still trying to get itself back under control, his eyes fluttered open. The first thing he saw was a pair of deeply concerned brown eyes staring back at him from a thin face paler than his own.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he tightened his grip on the small girl. A small part of his mind had started to rationalize and he reminded himself not to hurt her. Shilo's arms snaked around the broadest part of his chest, trying to hold him as he held her, burying his face in her shoulder.

"Thanks, kid," he breathed in her ear.

***

We have a third success - a thousand words, period, paragraph, courtesy of Microsoft Word.

_**Author's Footnote:**_** Sorry, this time around, I had to pick on Graverobber! Shilo's been through enough, don'cha think? I think I read someplace that men are more likely to get night terrors. Someone who knows more about psychology than I do is welcome to correct me.**


	4. Concussion

_**Disclaimer:**_ **Wow... I think I may be running out of ways to tell you people that I don't do funny disclaimers! Okay, the usual - I do not own Repo! or anything else that's particularly awesome. Except this sweater... It's comfy.**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**Apparently I've done it again and hit the thousand-word mark right on the dot. Now before you reach for your flamethrowers, yes, I'm going to pick on Graverobber again. And if you've read my other fics, I realize I tend to hit him with stuff a lot... It's okay though, I let him give it back to me in... Oh hell, this is just a T-rated fic, so this needs to be a T-rated Author's Note...**

_Don't you just wish I'd quit my bitchin'? On with the fic!_

Concussion

They both heard the sharp, sickening _crack_ of his head impacting briskly with the gargoyle's wing. Shilo spun around just in time to hear the resulting yell of "_GODDAMMIT!_" and see the Graverobber kick the statue. She watched him hop for a moment, looking rather silly as he pressed a hand to the side of his head as well. Brown eyes rolled heavenward, and then the teenager approached the city's most talked-about criminal. His eyes, while flashing in irritation, had a bit of a glassy look to them and he pitched a little to the left.

"You have a concussion," she informed him matter-of-factly.

The Zydrate dealer cracked his neck both ways, making the most of the offensive noise that caused and taking no small pride in making the kid flinch.

"Nah, it's just a bump," he threw back, his attempt at smooth talking coming out more like he'd had a drink or two.

Shilo shrugged and rolled her eyes again.

"Whatever," she brushed it off, picking up her satchel and his leather bag, the latter she extended to him. "Let's just get out of here before you trigger the alarm again."

Graverobber's attempt to wink at her lost most of its effect on the fact that he was developing what would turn out to be a magnificent shiner. In other words, his right eye had started to swell shut and the skin around it turning purple. He reached out and took his bag, trying not to tilt his head at it.

"As I remember, _you _set it off last time, little missy," he reminded her, still slurring his words as he attempted to swagger past her.

The theoretical 'swagger' came out in practice as more 'stagger' as he pitched to the left again, flattening his hand over his bummed eye. Had Shilo not been so worried, she would have found the situation quite comical – okay, so she laughed in spite of herself! She hitched up her satchel and tottered off after him, just waiting for him to fall in a hole or something. Sure enough, he misjudged the clearance of a low headstone and sent himself sprawling. It was a good thing the indoor environmental control had been set for 'spring' and he had nice grass to pad his fall.

"Are you all right?" Shilo demanded, hustling over and plopping down on her knees beside him.

That Cheshire cat grin split his pale face, dark lips pulling back to expose scary-white teeth.

"I'm perfectly fine," he tried his best not to slur while still grinning at her.

Shilo, for her part, found it neither cute nor intimidating – to her, it was just annoying. She had been around him long enough to know it meant he was being evasive. However, she also knew it did next to no good to call 'bullshit' on him; it would just make him deny everything. Graverobber, mostly aware of the teen still watching him, lay back on the soft grass, tucking his hands behind his head. Before he could really think about it, or much of anything else, for that matter, his eyelids started to droop. Something rang out in his mind that a nap sounded really good right about now.

"_Mmm…_ feels nice…" he mumbled, his eyes sliding completely closed.

Before he could settle in much more, a small, thin hand slapped him right on the cheek. Startled and angry, he sat up, his glassy eyes blazing.

"Ow!" he yelped, unthinking of his reputation as 'scary Graverobber' at the moment. "What the hell was that for!?"

If Shilo'd had enough hair to tug on in frustration, she would have done so. Since she didn't, she just made a huffy noise and fixed the Graverobber with a catlike '_you're a moron_' stare.

"You can't sleep now - you have a concussion!" she repeated, increasing her volume as if she thought that would make him listen.

"But I'm _tired_," he whined.

Okay, now Shilo _knew_ he was loopy – she planted her face in her palm.

"I d'n't g've a d'mn," she told him, words muffled in her hand. She gave him another _look_ and he tilted his head, shutting his left eye so he'd only see one of her. "Don't you know that if you go to sleep while you have a concussion, you could… like… _not wake up_?"

Her voice thinned out at the end – she was strung-out at the thought of losing someone else and being alone in the world again. Graverobber gave her a lopsided, more genuine version of his Cheshire cat grin.

"Trust me, kid---"

"Shilo," she interrupted him.

Normally, he would tease her, call her 'kid' a few more times, maybe 'little missy' again, just to see what she'd do. Today, however, he heard the plaintive note in her voice.

"Shilo," he said agreeably, his tone as serious as he could get it in his current state. "Trust me, Shilo – I know a thing or two about knocks on the head."

Timidly, Shilo laid a shaking hand on his knee, looking up at him with those brown eyes the size of tea saucers.

"So you know why I'm worried, right?" she practically begged – normally she had more dignity than this, but if he could whine like an eight-year-old, she could too, dammit! "I mean---"

Clenching his left eye shut so he could do this right, Graverobber reached out and laid a finger on the teenager's pale lips.

"I know what you mean," he told her, still as serious as he could be. "But I don't have a concussion – it's just a little bump."

_Whatever,_ Shilo thought, as she let him drape that same arm around her shoulders and pull her companionably against his side. So he wouldn't get it through his thick head that he had a concussion? Fine! He had done so much for her, now she finally had her chance to help him. If she could just keep him arguing, keep him talking, keep him awake…

***

One thousand more words, on the nose - thanks to Microsoft Word!

_**Author's Footnote:**_** Yeah, this one was a bit more light-hearted than the others have been. I can just see Graverobber being all stubborn after he hit his head.**


	5. Withdrawal

_**Disclaimer:**_ **If you'd be so kind, please insert the standard, non-witty disclaimer here. I do not own Repo! or anything that may be alluded to in this ficlet.**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**Withdrawal is an ugly thing. Don't do drugs, kids. They're icky. However, an addiction can happen even when medications are taken properly - I'm talking to you, all you pill-peddling child shrinks who think it's okay to substitute pills for parenting!**

_Okay, enough with the soapbox! On with the fic!_

Withdrawal

It wasn't nicotine, alcohol, or street Zydrate, but that didn't make it any less of an addiction. Her father's "medicine" – Shilo couldn't begin to name the chemical content – had really worked her over. It took the average heroin addict about a year to recover after approximately three years' being hooked. Every experience of withdrawal came across differently, some relatively easy, some as severe as seizures, coughing blood, and horrific digestive complications. Shilo knew that coming off seventeen years of goodness-knows-what wouldn't be easy. As she wiped her sweaty forehead on the back of her hand, it didn't matter.

Though full-blown attacks got less and less frequent, a few complaints had stayed with her – sweating, allover soreness, and chills, usually. Graverobber couldn't take her into the alleys or cemeteries with her like this, so he found various places to stash her. Tonight, he'd kicked down the door of an abandoned hotel's "suite" – at least this meant the bed had sheets. She had smiled crookedly and nodded when he asked if she was all right before he left. _Ugh…_ She'd always been a rotten liar, and she knew that he knew it too.

She wiped her forehead again and lay down, the bed more comfortable than she'd had access to in quite a while. The pillow stuck to her cheek with the sweat dripping down her skin. A soft groan she couldn't control passed her lips and she drew her knees up to her chest, shuddering and miserable. Taking a shaky breath, she closed her eyes. In a few minutes, she knew she'd be having another attack, but there wasn't much she could do. She wished she could shower, but it wasn't a very likely possibility here. Vowing to sleep through the whole thing, Shilo tucked one arm under her head and wrapped the other 'round her knees.

There was no way to tell how much time had passed when she finally heard the door rattling through her haze. The door banged open, causing her to flinch. In stumbled the Graverobber – not wanting to bother him, she curled up tighter and pretended to be asleep. Nothing got by him, though; she couldn't hide her trembling body and no matter how hard she bit down on her lip, quieting the small, panting groans didn't work.

"It'd help if you weren't clenching your eyes shut," he suggested, his voice softly joking. "You feelin' okay?"

Shilo brought her arm down, hiding her face.

"It hurts," she mumbled into her sleeve.

She felt the mattress sink on one side. Her already-pale skin seemed disturbingly pallid tonight. Graverobber, truly concerned, leaned over the small girl. He reached out and took hold of her wrist, moving her arm so he could get a look at her face. Shilo took a shaky breath, trying not to look as awful as she felt… She failed rather miserably. If there was one thing Graverobber knew quite a bit about, for obvious reasons, it was addicts. He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, giving a supportive squeeze.

Fiending was always a nasty business – he'd seen plenty of it. No matter how much her mind told her that the drug was gone, her body still thought it needed the "meds" to feel normal. He slid one arm under the teenager's thin shoulders, pulling her close. She made an unpleasant gurgling noise, like she was about to be sick. This had to be the most severe attack she'd had in weeks. Gently, he placed a hand on the side of her face, running his thumb over the curve of her cheek.

"Relax kid, he whispered, the same soft, persuasive tone he'd used to help her through her first Zydrate extraction. "I've gotcha. Just hold on – it's gonna be okay."

Shilo's clenched her hand into a fist in the front of his shirt. She could hear the mechanized feminine voice of her old med-alert bracelet. It told her she needed her "medicine" immediately, that her blood pressure would continue to rise unchecked. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears, in her fingertips, in her tightened calf muscles – everywhere but her chest. Graverobber held her close, letting her lay her head on his shoulder as tears streamed from her eyes.

"Hurts to breathe…" Shilo whispered, her voice strained.

He turned his head to the side, his lips almost on her ear.

"Shh… Shh…" he hushed her, rocking her gently. "You'll get through this."

A soft whimper answered him and he shook his head slightly, honestly wishing he could do more for her. The tiny girl shifted in his arms, her hand twisting in his shirt again. Sighing heavily, he stroked her back, trying to think of anything he could do to help her relax. Shilo tried to draw her knees back up to her chest as her heartbeat threatened to deafen her. His arms tightened around her, preventing her from repositioning. She whimpered again, hiding her face against his neck to conceal the sound.

"You've gotta learn to relax," he told her.

"Can't…" she sniffled, her body sore all over.

Graverobber knew better than to argue – right now, it would just upset her and make everything worse. She'd get the message eventually, he hoped. To be honest, though, he had never actually seen an addict recover before; they always either relapsed or died. But hell… If anybody could, it'd have to be this one. This kid had something about her – even if she just recovered out of sheer stubbornness, she would do it.

It'd take a while, of course. She would shake for a while, and she'd cry. There would be more nights like this, with neither one of them getting decent sleep. Her body would continue to hurt all over and the cold sweats weren't drying up anytime soon. But for some reason, he was determined to see her get better. She had defied so much convention already –if she could get through this, she may as well start defying gravity.

***

Thousand words even - let's see if I can keep this up!

_**Author's Footnote:**_** I believe I'll take a leaf out of AmazonTurk's book of awesomeness. What are some subjects my lovelies would like to see as a Baby Grand? Just little everyday "shit happens" things that might help Shilo and Graverobber get a bit closer. Leave a review with your ideas! I have a few of these still planned out, but an author always needs all the help she can get!**


	6. Grief

_**Disclaimer:**_ **Ahem... I don't own Repo! or anything else of note. I own this fic. And I make no profit off it but my own enjoyment and sharing that with the rest of you fine people.**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**This one is sort of for my best friend. If she's reading this, she'll know what I mean. But she's probably not.**

_Anyway, to the fic!_

Grief

He hadn't asked her "Are you sure about this?" or anything like that when she told him what she wanted to do. If she brought it up, he figured she had given it as much thought as she felt the matter needed. Anyway, she had been quiet for a while, so that had probably been why. Asking no questions, he had simply nodded and motioned for her to show him the way.

Now they were picking their way through one of the nicer old cemeteries, directly behind a sickeningly familiar old house. Conversation on the way over had been at a bare minimum, just a question here and there and a response in regard to directions. And now they both walked along as silently as the tombs around them stood. Shilo had her arms wrapped around her front, gripping her elbows. Whether this was for purposes of warmth or stability, the Graverobber couldn't tell.

The mausoleum they finally approached was much nicer, better-kept than the rest of the place. Shilo tried to put on a determined face – Graverobber thought she might be sick. Both tilted their heads at the light still burning inside the tomb, suspicious. For that matter, why was the building so nicely-kept?

But it didn't matter. It could have been a trap or something, but that was highly unlikely, and they didn't care anyway. Shilo had something she had to do and wasn't the kind easily stopped by… well… anything, once she put her mind to doing something. Graverobber probably should have put a hand on her shoulder and stopped her when she ran ahead of him, but he didn't. Whatever trouble she might get herself into, he'd get her out of – again.

He heard soft cursing and ambled up to where Shilo twisted the door knob furiously. She kicked the door and yelled "_Ow!_" before blushing and looking around to make sure no one had heard her. Grinning annoyingly at her, the Graverobber kicked the door right below the lock and it opened with a crash. Shilo wrinkled her nose, and then blinked in surprise when she found that he hadn't broken anything but the deadbolt.

"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing at the open door.

Two seconds ago, she had been running to this door and damn anything that tried to stop her – now Shilo hung back as if someone just inside had looked at her with disapproval. Graverobber tilted his head at her, but wasn't about to push her. He leaned on the door frame and waited for a moment as the teen took a deep breath. When he extended a hand to her, she took it and allowed him to pull her gently inside.

She swallowed hard as she approached the two marble slabs. One was as familiar as the furniture in her own bedroom had been – Marni Wallace. The other caused her to choke on her own saliva – she coughed hard and almost couldn't make her brain read the name Nathan Wallace. Whoever had set this up had chosen a nice enough picture, she guessed. Her father, in his younger days, smiled back at his small, stone world from a picture dated around the same time as Marni's.

"Hi Mom…" Shilo said softly, like she had always done. Then she paused, her breath caught, and she managed to choke out "Hi… Dad…"

Silence answered her, of course, and she nodded. Haltingly, she took two steps forward and settled in between the two graves. Graverobber still watched from the open doorway, keeping half an eye out for anyone who might disturb her, but mostly watching Shilo herself. She traced her mother's name, the motions smooth and practiced – she had done that many times over the years. Whispering something he couldn't hear, she turned to her father's stone. Feeling like an intruder, and for once not comfortable with that feeling, Graverobber averted his eyes.

Shilo stared down at her father's picture – it wasn't at all like the last time she saw him. He was young and handsome, healthy and strong. Right after the Genetic Opera debacle there hadn't been time to grieve. She had heard the whispers in the streets that the Largos had taken the house and had her killed. No, she had just grabbed her warmest clothes and fled into the night. She'd bet that her mother's bloody dress still lay crumpled on her bedroom floor.

Sitting there, she felt her chest about to explode with emotion. She sniffled, swiped a hand under her nose, and rolled her eyes back to try and stop the tears. It wasn't enough – almost outside her notice, one little drop escaped. All of a sudden, time stopped for a second and her control gave out. The tiny girl covered her face with her hands and felt the dam in her chest break.

"Kid?" asked a deep, gentle voice.

She didn't know when he had come to stand beside her, but she couldn't have been more grateful for his presence. The Graverobber bent down and gathered her into his arms like a child. Normally, Shilo would have tried to dry up and put on a stone face, but tonight, she just had to cry. She needed it. Strong arms held her against a powerful body and she let herself go.

He didn't say anything – couldn't think of anything _to_ say. What the hell did you say to someone at a time like this? Shilo buried her face in his shoulder, crying onto his moldy old coat. Figuring she wouldn't want that on her face later, he pulled her back and slid the coat out of the way. Her tense body relaxed with the warmth of it wrapping around her and she returned to soaking his shirt through. Not trying to hush her cries, he rocked her back and forth slowly. Turning his head, he kissed her cheek. They'd probably be there all night, but that wasn't too bad – it was dry and warmer inside than it was out.


	7. Migraines

_**Disclaimer:**_ **--clears throat -- I do not own Repo! or anything but the migraine this fic gave me.**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**No, really, I'm serious. While I was writing this fic, I got a migraine. Weird, huh? Also, I have no idea what the 2056 equivalent of Excedrin would be, so... Meh.**

_Excedrin is a happy thing! On with the fic!_

Migraines

The pain had bothered her for close on two hours now, that blistering pain behind her left eye. This wasn't a normal headache – Shilo was quite sure of that. Of course, she didn't want to say anything while they were out in the cemetery. Graverobber crouched over the corpse of what, by the clothes, had once been a businessman. She watched idly as he smacked the needle into the skull and extracted the blue glow. Determined not to be ignored, the pain flared up in her head again and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Don't tell me it's gettin' to ya now, kid," the Graverobber ribbed her only half-jokingly.

Wincing – his voice had seemed awfully loud – Shilo glared at him.

"Of course not!" she shot back.

Releasing the full vial from the needle and capping it, the Graverobber gave her a "look" – the kind that made her want to smack him in the face. He stuck the vial in his pocket and fished around in his coat for a second before coming back with an empty one. After setting it up in the needle's compartment, he shoved the instrument at Shilo.

"Okay, then you do the next one," he challenged.

Pretending her pained, hissing sigh was merely a sound of exasperation, the teenager snatched the antiquated-looking device from his hand. She tried to glare at him again, but lost some of the effect by squinting her left eye half-shut.

"You okay, kid?" asked the Graverobber, tilting his head at her.

"Got a headache, I'm all right," she told him, pushing off the ground in a huff.

She stalked over to the next body and jammed the needle into the left nostril with such force that he thought she might have rammed it straight through to the back of the skull.

"Careful there!" he admonished.

Shilo leaned her head back against the statue of the open book, pressing both hands over her left eye. The pain had not diminished in the slightest and now the throbbing made her want to make like Blind Mag and take her own eyes out. She never thought she'd experience something that made it hurt to _see_. While she was at it, she wouldn't mind getting rid of her ears as well. Hearing wasn't exactly a bonus at this point either. She scrunched her shoulders up, trying to plug her ears with them and groaning when the ridiculous maneuver failed.

"Migraine, huh?" inquired the Graverobber, causing Shilo to wince visibly.

She glared poisonously at him – he had been speaking in a normal voice, but to her, he may has well have been shouting.

"You know," he continued, not lowering his voice. "You should probably take something for that."

Shilo shot him another nasty glare.

"I don't think so," she ground out between clenched teeth.

The Graverobber rolled his eyes and nudged her shoulder.

"Come on, kid."

The girl swatted his hand away and squinched both eyes shut for a moment.

"It's not a big deal," she informed him testily. "It'll go away on its own."

"Yeah, in a few hours," he shot back.

Shilo ignored him and grabbed the Zydrate needle, stalking off to another body and ramming the needle into the dead woman's nostril. The blue glow made itself apparent right away and Shilo did her best to look pleased with herself. Looking pleased with anything had become a challenge with her brain feeling like it was about to leak out of her own nasal passages. But there was no way in hell she was taking any kind of drug – ever.

She had fought with her dad over the "medicine". There had been some days she really didn't give a damn about the "blood disease" – she was just sick of taking the shit. In her wildest dreams, she couldn't imagine willingly taking anything _for_ anything. How could people reach for that stuff for every little thing? It all went away eventually. Cramps, headaches, stomach troubles – you didn't need pills, just some patience. All the same… That pounding in her head refused to subside.

A few bodies and little glass vials later, the teenager found herself almost blinded with the throbbing in her skull. She wasn't just going to be useless though, not by a long shot! Biting down on her lip, determined to give herself a crash course in 'mind over matter', she continued. However, the ashen shade her temples had begun to take caught the Graverobber's eye. Shilo found herself stopped by a large hand thumping palm-down on her head.

She pursed her lips comically and, without tilting her head, tried to look up at said hand. Graverobber, loving the fact that he was tall enough to get away with it, grinned down at her. Shilo flipped him a rude hand gesture by holding the Zydrate extractor between two fingers. Okay, he had to give her creativity points on that one… All the same, though…

"You need to take something," he insisted. "What do you think you're proving by not?"

That made her mad enough to swing at him, though she didn't get too far with his hand still on her head.

"Why are you being such a dick about it!?" she demanded. "It's not like it's your business!"

Rolling his eyes, Graverobber thumped her on the nose with his free hand.

"It becomes my business when you're so screwed up by a migraine that it interferes with my… business!" he shot back, pleased by his own wit.

Shilo growled at him, un-amused.

"Look, just leave me alone about it," she grumbled, turning to another corpse and trying to pretend her hands were not shaking.

Graverobber shook his head, removing his hand from her head.

"Ever heard the best way to get rid of a cold is to give it to someone else?" he asked her.

The teenager looked puzzled.

"I think so…" she answered carefully. "Why?"

Graverobber made a face at her.

"I'm just wondering if it works for migraines too," he grumbled.

***

We have another thousand words!

_**Author's Footnote: **_**You know, I would gladly do a Baby Grand for anyone who'd like to do a picture for one of my ficlets. If you'd like to do a fanart for me, PM me and we can work it all out.**


	8. Ripped Bag

_**Disclaimer:**_ **Okay, are you people STILL looking for funny disclaimers!? How many times must I tell you!? I don't own Repo! and make no profit off this fic.**

_**A Brief Author's Note: **_**Anyone who has ever had a favorite bag or purse poop out on you will understand and sympathize with Shilo on this one.**

_Enough talk! Fic-time!_

Ripped Bag

That corner had been fraying for some time now. Occasionally, Shilo picked at it when she was bored. She supposed it just hadn't been on her mind that it could break soon. That satchel had been by her side for… years? She had carried her whole life in it – books, bug-collecting supplies, flashlights, lunches, and a thousand other tiddly little things.

Now it sat in her lap, split from the corner to the middle of the bottom. An old bug-collecting jar lay in pieces around her boots and her flashlight sat forlornly about six inches away. A romance novel had landed propped up on both covers. She had piled most of the little stuff next to her – packets of tissue, bits of paper, pretty things she picked up, et cetera. But gathering her things didn't put the bag back together.

Even given the proper supplies, she knew she probably couldn't repair it all that well. No one ever bothered to teach her things like that. She supposed she had come in contact with duct tape once in her whole life. So she sat there, wishing her latent powers of telekinetic repair would somehow magically manifest themselves. The bag remained in her lap, the frayed rip grinning at her.

"Hey, let me see it," a deep voice broke into her thoughts.

"Huh!?" she yelped, outright startled. She whipped around and found the Graverobber standing over her, looking down in curiosity. "What?"

He crouched next to her, running his fingers along the rip in the bag, causing her to shiver as his hand 'inadvertently' brushed her thigh. She wrinkled her nose, but did not deign to dignify that with even a glance. Graverobber took the bag from her and looked at it from several different angles, furrowing his brow in thought. Before she really knew what was going on, he had up and disappeared down a nearby alley.

"I hate him sometimes," muttered Shilo, picking the romance novel up and kicking some broken glass away.

***

She had just turned the last page of a blush-inducing chapter seven when she heard the footsteps. Quickly shutting her book, she reached for her satchel out of habit and swore softly when she found it to be, of course, not there. Instead sitting on the book that she preferred he not see, Shilo looked up as innocently as she could. Graverobber smiled in response.

"So tell me, have Audrina and Reginald ascended to their epic climax yet?" he asked in his most lecherous voice.

He doubled over laughing as Shilo's face practically _glowed_ crimson, illuminated by the flashlight she had forgotten to switch off. The mortified teenager sputtered and stammered, trying to make up an excuse on the spot. She wanted to crawl into a dumpster, slam the lid shut, and _hide_. The Graverobber watched her for a while before deciding to let her off the hook. He let out a false cough and 'unintentionally' indicated that he might have something behind his back. Shilo, face still burning red, tilted her head at him in confusion.

"What _are_ you doing?" she asked, curiosity trouncing embarrassment.

The Graverobber's dark lips curled up at the corners and back from his eerily white teeth as he smiled at her.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he demurred, trying his best to look as innocent as a rose.

Okay, this guy could pull off seductive, dashing, enigmatic, lackadaisical, and everything else that made women go squishy inside, but innocent seemed to be the one thing he _could not do_.

"You know that doesn't work, right?" Shilo deadpanned.

The Graverobber decided to ignore the fact that she had just knocked him down several pegs.

"What doesn't work?" he asked, feigning ignorance. "I'm just… stretching."

Shilo might have had no formal education, little intrapersonal experience, and been a bit on the naïve-and-trusting side, but she wasn't stupid by any means.

"Yeah, uh-huh… Stretching," she repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm. "All you're stretching right now is the truth!"

Another annoying smile greeted her.

"Touché," agreed the Graverobber. Then he dropped his jovial manner, his shoulders down like an angry shark's fins. Slowly, he took a step towards her. "So… you want to know what this is?"

Shilo clicked off her flashlight and set it down. She wasn't about to fall for his whole intimidation act – kind of wished she had a sandwich, just so she could eat it nonchalantly. But the Graverobber refused to let her ignore him. Shifting so she still couldn't see behind him, he propped one booted foot up on the concrete step next to her, invading her personal space. Rolling her eyes, Shilo scooted away.

Still unwilling to go ignored, the Graverobber stepped in front of her and bent down, almost touching his nose to hers. This closeness caused her to go slightly cross-eyed and she tried to lean backwards to get away. However, she couldn't move out of his reach, so he slid a hand under her chin and held her fast. For a moment, she wondered if he was going to kiss her.

"I have something for you," he informed her – she could feel his hot breath on her lips and tried not to shiver. "But you have to tell me you want it…"

Something inside her fluttered as she blinked rapidly in surprise. She bit her lip, unsure of how to respond. He _was_ going to kiss her!

"Yes," she whispered, the word tumbling from her lips before she could stop it.

Inwardly, the Graverobber cackled with glee – this was just too fun!

"Close your eyes," he instructed, dropping his voice down an octave – the girl did as she was told. He shifted around and brought out the item from behind his back. "Here."

Shilo opened her eyes to find him holding her bag, repaired with duct tape.

"I love you," she whispered, letting her mouth hang open.

Graverobber nodded and smiled, quite pleased with himself.

"I know," he told her, cocky as ever.

***

Another thousand-word wonder!


	9. Fever

_**Disclaimer: **_**If y'all still think I own Repo!, you're more delusional than I thought. Yes, of course, it's all mine! Bwaha! Uh, yeah… Nope. Not mine, never was, never will be.**

_**A Brief Author's Note:**_** The idea for this ficlet was borrowed from Sekihara Tae of the Akabeko, a lovely Rurouni Kenshin fan fiction website. Her fic "Fever Dreams" features Kenshin with a ridiculously high fever. I brought the drama down a bit into your basic "oh shit" moment. I am not a plagiarist and I respect and honor Tae with this small tribute. Coincidentally, Peggy Lee's song "Fever" fucking rocks. That's got NOTHING to do with this fic, but the song is cool.**

_And now! ON WITH THE FIC, I SAY!_

Fever

Shilo had watched him getting worse over the past few days. Starting with slight tremors in his hands, then sweating, and now the Graverobber looked as pale _without_ his makeup as he did with it. She might not be a doctor, but the symptoms of fever became obvious. Bitching had at least irritated him into taking a night off, and Shilo took up clumsily caring for him. He was _not _an angel of a patient. He complained, fidgeted, annoyed her, and generally made that night hell. When she told him he could try the patience of a saint, he responded with "I already have" and gave her a smarmy look. That had earned him a kill-jar chucked at his head . . . that even he looked surprised at when it slipped past his hand. While it seemed merely odd to him, it worried Shilo.

The next day, he insisted that he felt perfectly fine and it bugged him to stay cooped up. Shilo attempted to counter-insist that he stay for just a little longer, taking hold of his wrist. He pried her fingers loose and curtly told her he'd be back in the morning. The teen cursed the door as it closed, then sat down hard in a chair. Pausing before she picked up her book, she studied her hand for a moment – was it her or had his skin felt frighteningly hot?

The next morning, a haggard _thing_ staggered into the apartment and Shilo grabbed a broken table leg for a weapon, nearly braining the figure before she identified it. Off-hand, Graverobber looked positively awful, even by his standards. His skin looked like paper, a dry and unhealthy appearance, lips cracked as though he were very dehydrated. The way he breathed – panted, more like – Shilo guessed he had been running for quite some time. He'd _better_ not have brought trouble to their albeit-temporary front door! But that thought left her head as she got a better look at him.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed, rather uselessly in his opinion, and then continued, "You got worse!"

He had stopped sweating – a truly bad sign, his pupils dilated to where she almost could not see the blue of his irises and he seemed not to be fully aware of his surroundings. Shilo rocketed out of her seat, sending her book flying, and rushed to his side, gripping his wrist again. No, his temperature hadn't reduced in the slightest. Heaven knew where he had been all night – she wasn't about to ask, nor about what he had been doing. The Graverobber looked down at her in mild confusion and allowed her to lead him over to the bed they had been sharing, grinning vaguely at her. She rolled her eyes and conveniently forgot to bap him upside the head for copping a feel of her backside.

"You're an idiot – you know that, right?" she told him more than asked, watching him try to tuck himself in with his boots on. "Oh for the love of . . ."

Shaking her head irritably, Shilo swatted him on the shoulder and pulled his hands to the buckles of his boots, almost having to guide him in taking the damn things off! In her romance books, she guessed the heroine would be doing it for him, but . . . well . . . _eww! _The stench after he took the damnable things off was bad supposed she loved him – not sure in what way, yet – but it sure as hell wasn't that much! The second _thud_ brought her out of her brief reverie and she looked up at him from her place half-crouched beside the bed. One glance at his face melted her irritation away.

"I feel fucking awful…" muttered the Graverobber, scrunching his nose in a boyish manner she had never seen from him before.

Shilo leaned forward and started fussing with his jacket, helping him shrug out of it then using it for extra cover – whoever left this apartment in a hurry had apparently been hot-natured . . . Graverobber leaned back against a pillow, closing his eyes briefly as Shilo carefully undid the buttons on his shirt, the act more of plain caring than any sensuality. His fever-bright, dilated eyes caught her worried brown ones and he smiled at her – a genuine smile that reached his eyes. She blushed to the roots of her hair and continued loosening the shirt. Never that he could remember had someone been so careful of his health!

"Well that's what you get for not listening to me," Shilo's half-hearted gripe broke into his thoughts. A quick study of her face told him she was more concerned than annoyed. "If you'd stayed in bed like I told you, it wouldn't be this high. You're a stubborn jackass – that's what you are!"

He gave her a wry grin, more like his usual jester-ish expression.

"Would you love me if I were any other way?" he asked her, his voice deep and throaty and his head cocked to the side.

Shilo's eyes widened, but she made a "_pfft_" noise between her teeth and flicked his nose with one thin finger. He pouted at her momentarily, then when she commanded him to "just go to sleep already", leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. The teenager watched him as his eyes slid closed – he was in more need of rest than he would let himself admit. Stubborn jackass, just like she said; how the hell he was still alive was completely beyond her. He was reckless, secretive, and flighty! He smelled awful after it rained. He made bad jokes, felt her up just because he found her cursing to be mightily amusing, and she could never figure out what went on in his head. Even with all that, his words still echoed in her head.

"_Would you love me if I were any other way?_"

She brushed it off as just the fever talking.

So, that makes how many little thousand-word baby fanfics now?


End file.
